Too Little, Too Late
by tyrope
Summary: He reminds Charlotte of her past life in Hollywood, the one she's desperately tried to get away from and when she thinks about it, she's glad she left.


_-Tell me you don't feel the same. Tell me you haven't thought about it._

He reminds Charlotte of her past life in Hollywood, the one she's desperately tried to get away from. Flashing cameras, big celebrities wherever you go - always performing and putting on a show: Your job success directly correlating to how much applause you received that night. When she thinks about it, she's glad she left.

BoJack was one of the only ones she could talk to and she swore he was going to ask her out one of those days. They danced around it many times, occasionally exchanging flirty words. But that was it.

Then he shows up at her shop in New Mexico out of nowhere with a weird explanation that she chooses to believe. She smells the smoke from his cigarettes while he leans over the side of his boat and she's back in 80's Hollywood, standing outside the comedy theater in between Herb's sets. They'd take a drag and laugh, making jabs about the fake city. It isn't bad at first, but that's how it is when you first fall into a tar pit until you're in way too deep and the more you thrash and struggle, the further you sink.

Charlotte sighs heavily and rolls her eyes. She's thought of it. Had this been years ago, she would have accepted without hesitation to run off into nowhere, leaving everything behind. But the circumstances had changed dramatically. "I have a life." He represents everything she left behind: The good, the bad, falling victim to herself, the pit of Hollywood... and she had resolved a long time ago she wouldn't become the pit. "I have a family. I have a husband. Kids."

"I don't care about any of that."

His words burn into her and sting. She has worked so hard to get away from everyone who dragged her down. It took so long for her to build this life for herself.

She grits her teeth. It had been selfish to keep him here and it's selfish of him to stay.

"You need to leave. You make me too sad."

This was BoJack's dream, his fantasy. Charlotte was his "what-if," the one he thought about when he grew wistful and miserable, letting his mind wander and trail to an alternate timeline where maybe they could have been happy and raised a family together. But lying and living in a parked boat in her front yard with her husband and two children inside was the closest he would ever get to that fantasy in this world. And now, even that is crumbling before his eyes.

"I understand," he finally replies.

The next few moments are a blur as he numbly walks across the lawn, out of sight of Charlotte, and up the boat ladder.

Charlotte's teenage daughter is one of the last ones he wants to see right now, and he tells her to leave. He's not in the mood to argue when she follows him in, closing the door behind. "Penny…" he tries again, tiredly, putting up a half-fight.

And suddenly she's beside him, stroking his mane, hushing him.

He wants to stop it. He knows he should or else it will be a huge mistake he'll regret for the rest of his life. But what's another one in his sea of terrible life regrets? He's leaving tomorrow morning anyway. He's burned the bridge with Charlotte, so he doesn't care when her teenage daughter's warm lips touch his. He's prepared to lose it all as her hands rest on his chest and push him onto the bed. His limbs are outstretched, knocking over a floor lamp, which shatters on the ground.

"Quiet, shh… shh..." Her voice is soft.

She's kneeling next to him on the bed and her hands travel to the top of the silly purple prom suit he's still wearing.

She really is just like her mother, echoing the night they set the balloons strapped with glow sticks into the sky. They watched them float into the sky was a stricken awe and laughed, taking another swig from a shared metal flask. And they spent the rest of the night on the rooftop of a random building in Los Angeles that they drunkenly climbed up, barely containing their giggling as they did so.

For a moment, he pretends that it is her. And it's all too easy.

The cabin door swings open an a loud gasp jolts him out of his destructive trance and waves of shame and regret wash over him as he attempts to offer a gross spew of words as an explanation. But there's absolutely nothing BoJack can say that would make it okay, that can reverse the awful, careless thing he almost did. He knows he's despicable.

He feels like he's in a drunken stupor, a white haze, as Penny runs, crying. He's looking at Charlotte and winces as she curses loudly and threatens him and he feels the shittiest he's ever felt.


End file.
